A Matter of Principles
by carryon-vs
Summary: Episode 1.18. A boy drowns, supposedly pulled under water by some mystical creature. The new case is suddenly all about priorities and decisions. Wrong and right. And all the consequences for Sam and Dean and - eventually - mankind.
1. Chapter 1

Carry On...a Supernatural Virtual Season

Episode 18: Matter of Principles

Authors: annj and pinkphoenix

Disclaimer: We don't own Supernatural or it's characters, basically any characters familiar from the show. They are properties of the WB, CW and Eric Kripke.

A/N: Carry On...A Supernatural Virtual Season picks up at the end of All Hell Breaks Loose part one and then ventures on with a what if scenario that takes the Winchester brothers through heaven and hell while fighting to save the remnants of their splintered family. See our bio page for more information.

Episode Summary: Caroga Town, NY. A boy drowns, supposedly pulled under water by some mystical creature. When Sam and Dean arrive they realize a group of hunters is already there, taking care of things in their own way. The new case is suddenly all about priorities and decisions. Wrong and right. And all the consequences for Sam and Dean and - eventually - mankind.

**PART ONE**

M&Ms had never tasted better.

With a happy sigh Dean reached into the bag to grab another handful of the colorful candy, ignoring the pointed look from his brother, whose lips would shrivel if he pursed them just a little bit more.

"Mhmwha?" Dean mumbled, making a point of looking at Sam as he opened his mouth, almost choking on of piece of chocolate when Sam made a disgusted face.

"Dean, that's so gross. I don't even have words for that."

"Which can only count as victory for me, haha!" Dean grinned and reached for the bag. They had stopped only half an hour ago at the last gas station but the bag was almost empty again. Admittedly, Dean felt a little sick but it was definitely worth it. If not for the awesome taste, then for the hilarious grimace Sam managed with new found creativity.

"You've only just got an ulcer removed."

"My point exactly," Dean replied. "Removed. Which means it's gone and I'm free to eat whatever I want."

"Don't get pissed if you ever wake up dead from a heart attack, man."

"Hey, at least I'll die happy and full." With that, he threw three more balls of candy into his mouth and munched on.

Three states, five gas stations and more than half a dozen bags of candies lay between them and Chicago and they were making fast progress. They would reach their goal within the next hour... if Dean's stomach didn't betray him by making the M&M's OD and make an outstanding come back.

A sign next to the street informed them about _Johnstown, 42 miles_ and the irony of it made Dean snort. Oh, the irony.

"What's so funny," Sam mumbled, his own eyes staring fixedly ahead even though Dean had seen the small intake of breath his brother had made when they passed the sign.

Dean sobered in an instant, not even sure why he'd been amused about it in the first place. "Nothing, sorry."

Now, he really felt sick and he pressed his right foot viciously on the gas pedal, breaking the speed limit. This way, they would need even less than one hour. Not to Johnstown, thankfully, but a tiny community in the middle of New York. The state, not the city.

A small folder lay between both brothers on the bench seat with some news articles and additional information about Caroga Lake and the surrounding area. Balancing the laptop on his knees Sam was browsing through some saved websites, rereading the information he had collected last night in addition to the news articles and biting nervously on his lower lip.

"Find anything new?" Dean asked, his speech still a little bit slurred from the amount of candy between his teeth.

"No." With a groan Sam shut the laptop and watched ahead, massaging his temples. "Just what I found in the newspapers and some online comments. The usual. 14-year-old Craig Weston drowned in a lake, accident, yaddayadda."

"Got a headache?" Dean asked, trying to sound as unconcerned as possible but Sam merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Naah, not really. Just too little sleep and I think your sugar shock affects me more than you. Which..." At this he looked over to Dean who was picking at his teeth, trying to get the hard edges of the M&Ms out of teeth. Sam's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "...dude. You're going to ruin your teeth."

"Changed your MO now, did ya?"

Sam fell silent again and Dean knew the rest of the drive would be made in silence. Which was only good. This way his mouth had more time to chew.

Forty-two minutes later another sign next to the street informed them about "Caroga Lake, pop. 1,027". Next to it was an even larger sign with a number of idyllic pictures. Hiking, fishing, canoeing, skiing. It read like an ad for Disney World for grown-ups. Not the dirty kind, though. "Look, Sammy," Dean chirped, good-humoredly. "This is like a holiday."

Even though he could see Sam roll his eyes, the tiny twitch of his brother's corner of the mouth didn't go unnoticed and Dean felt his spirits rise even higher. Maybe he really should stop eating sugar... for now. Passing a few houses, a small diner, a grocery and a hardware store Dean maneuvered the car in front of a motel with the inviting name "Pillow's Crease". Sam gathered the documents and stuffed them into his backpack, right next to the laptop. Stretching his back and shaking his legs Dean jumped up and down a few times, before blowing breath into his hands.

"Is it me or is it freaking cold here?" he grumbled, his good temper fading already as he took a look around. This was just another town in the middle of Nowhere, which this country had more than enough of. A town that had more public stores than people in it.

The room they rented smelled like old people and Dean felt the urge to look under the beds to see whether there actually _were_ old people rotting away. The curtains were made of the same material as the bed spread - flowery rose petals and little birds with blue bellies. It was the strangest combination ever and Dean shook his head, glad that sleeping in that room meant he'd have his eyes closed.

With practiced skills they unpacked and left the room again.

It was only two in the afternoon and their stomachs complained about having missed lunch-aside from Dean's M&M massacre-making the green-painted shack across the street with the sign that read "Lunch from 11-3" sound like a message from God himself.

Entering the room they looked around a second before heading to a table at the back wall where they were quickly greeted by a middle-aged woman with dyed red hair and a round face.

"Hello boys," she said in a friendly voice. "Welcome to Caroga Lake." She tipped her pencil against a small notebook, eyes pinched in what looked like natural curiosity. "What brings two young boys into this corner of the country? I can't imagine you two to going fishing."

"Uhm..." Dean began and Sam could see his brother's wheels turning. "That's because we aren't," Dean replied while Sam opened the menu and began studying it like it was important material for his next exam. "We're just... trying to relax, you know? Back to nature and all that." At that, Sam looked up at his brother, eyebrow raised incredulously.

"Aawww," the woman sighed. "That's something you don't get to hear very often these days." She let her pencil and notebook sink down. "Most people think they can visit this town and find adventure here. It's those fancy movies these days." She nodded, her curls flying, and Dean smiled at her with what he hoped was a sympathetic look.

"Yeah, that's actually the last thing we wanted to find here. Adventure, I mean. We," he nodded towards his brother, "my brother and I we just want to relax a bit. Have some peace, you know. Spend some time together. Fishing." He grinned and put up the most innocent _city-boy-in-the-country_ face he could muster.

She glanced between the boys, her features softening with delight. "Brothers, huh? Yeah, family is what counts these days."

Dean nodded and decided that _these days_ was probably some sort of code word for _these people_ regarding the number of times she'd used it already.

"Uhm, yeah. Exactly!" Dean nodded, his eyes shifting between that waitress and his brother.

To Dean's relief Sam seemed to get the point and piped up: "Yes, fishing. And hiking. Have a look at the lakes." To Dean's surprise, the woman's eyes lit up even more.

"Lakes, huh? You should really go visit the White Lake . It's quite a sight. You're going to love it. It's the stairway to heaven, my Gram used to say." Dean cringed at her blasphemic use of Led Zeppelin but refrained from complaining as he felt the tip of Sam's foot collide with his shin.

"Ouch," he hissed and at the waitress's quizzical look he explained hastily. "Cramp."

"Ah." She nodded. "You should really take a bath in White Lake, too."

"Uhm... why?"

"Oh!" If her eyes lit up any more, Dean thought, he'd have to Christo her to see whether she was maybe being possessed by a white-eyed demon. "Didn't you know?"

"Know what?" Sam inquired, leaning on his elbow.

"The lake has healing powers." She grinned proudly, as if the healing powers were her own accomplishment. "White Lake's known for the water. It healed my warts."

Spluttering, Dean coughed, earning him another kick in the shin and he yelped.

"Son, you really should take a bath in the lake as soon as possible. This sounds like a nasty cough you got there." Her eyes grew large with sincere worry at his white complexion while Sam grinned into his fist.

"Yeah, maybe," Dean said hoarsely, scratching his throat as if he could reach the itch in the inside.

"But..." Sam began carefully. "What...what about the dead boy?"

"Dead boy?" She creased her forehead but then understanding dawned in her face. "Aaah, yes. I know. That poor boy. Such a pity. I heard he fell into the lake and hit his head."

"So, he wasn't pulled under water by some mystical creature?" Dean asked, throwing all caution into the wind.

"What?" Her eyes widened almost comically, snorting so hard that her spit flew. "No! Who said that?"

"Well, actually..." Sam fidgeted under her glare. "The newspaper said that."

"So, you believe everything the newspaper tells you?" At that moment she sounded suspiciously like Missouri Mosely and to Dean's great amusement Sam's cheeks blushed under her disapproving look. "Nonsense," She explained: "That boy's death was an accident. Probably some stupid city kid missing the common sense to not jump into unknown lakes."

Dean's interest piqued up. "You mean the boy wasn't from here?"

"No." She shook her head. "This is a small town, boy. Everyone knows everyone and if someone from around here had died in that lake, I'd know. Believe me. We don't have many teenagers in this town these days."

"Ah..." Dean nodded. "Then, who was he?"

The waitress shrugged her shoulder. "Probably one of those hunters."

"Hunters?"

"Yes, they came here about two weeks ago. Haven't seen them much in town, though. They're camping down by the lake I guess." With her pudgy thumb she pointed over her shoulder. "Strange group." She shook visibly and looked uncomfortably at the memory. "Five men, at least. Maybe more. And a few younger boys. Must've been one of them. Pity, really. Though they didn't look a lot like city people."

"Why is that?

"They had weapons. Lots of them. On the bed of their truck. Barney saw them." She nodded towards the bar, where a sweating man wearing a filthy apron was rubbing a dirty rag over an even dirtier glass. Dean gulped, starting to lose his appetite. _Warts and now that?_ Sam obviously felt the same way if Dean judged his brother's curling of the nose right.

"Uh, okay." It took a lot of bravado for him to keep smiling at the woman as she lifted her hand to drum the pencil against her notebook again.

"But where are my manners. You've come here to eat and I keep jabbering your ears off. What can I get you boys?"

-o-

They left the restaurant with food to go which they dumped on the backseat of the Impala in order to get rid of it at the next chance.

"So, hunters," Dean murmured and let himself fall into the driver's seat. "Who'd have thought?"

"What makes you think it's _hunters_ and not just hunters?" Sam frowned and Dean shot him a look.

"Are you kidding? I can smell them from a hundred miles away."

"That's the dinner, Dean."

"Whatever."

"What are they doing here anyway? If they're hunters they can take care of whatever it is. Plus, it's not like anything happened before the death of the boy," Sam thought aloud. "Assuming that dead boy belongs to the hunters that is. Maybe there isn't anything evil out there. Maybe it was an accident after all." He followed his brother into the car, making a grimace at the smell of the food on the back seat.

"I think she's the evil one. She ruined my appetite."

"Who?" Sam asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer. It wasn't like they had met a lot of _she's_ in that town. Plus he wasn't even sure he disagreed. That food was a biological weapon and Sam and Dean did not want to know what kind of body fluids besides sweat and spit had found their way into the meal. "No, don't answer that," he added before could Dean could start a rant. "So, now what?"

"We do what we came here for." At Dean's grin Sam felt something in his stomach plummet to the ground. "We do some hiking." He turned the ignition. "But first we need food. Real food. I think I saw a small place at the town entrance. Think they've got M&Ms?"

After a quick stop at the market and Dean stocking up his candy supply they took the route north, following the street a few miles before turning onto a bumpy sand road whose state suggested a barely frequented use. They followed it another two miles with Sam eyeing the road map on his knees suspiciously.

"How far is it?" Dean winced, as the car hit another pothole and complained with a rumble and a screech. He had barely said the words as the thick canopy of low branches and green leaves widened and revealed a small clearing. At its end Sam could see the surface of the lake.

"Guess this answers your question."

"Finally," Dean murmured and killed the engine. While Dean got to the back of car to open the trunk Sam crossed the few yards to stand at the shore of the lake. Seconds later, he could feel Dean's presence next to him and for a moment time seemed to stand still.

Both boys had been in a lot of places all over the country. They had been in the mountains, in wide wastelands and on more lakes than they could possibly count but this place was different. There was a strangely calming atmosphere lying on the water and the peaceful feeling it conjured up made Sam's heart soar with happiness.

The surface of the lake was quiet, a perfect mirror reflecting the mountains. White fluffy clouds were lazily passing in the sky, their mirror images almost as real as the originals. The high pitched cry of a large bird echoed over the lake and Sam could have sworn he saw the surface shiver in response. He lifted his head, staring at the animal and watched it soar with an enviable effortlessness. It's wings were spread wide, like a mother embracing her children. Another cry and it was gone, vanished behind the treetops over their heads.

Leaning forward Sam looked down. The shore was flat and the water exceptionally clear. Every little detail was visible in the flat water; Pebbles, tiny little fishes, the beige-colored, strange sand that was glittering like diamonds in the sun light.

"That is _so_ Kodak," Dean said and if there hadn't been a touch of awe in his voice, Sam would have rolled his eyes at Dean's utter disrespect of the miracle called nature. Instead, he felt himself nod.

He closed his eyes, hoping Dean didn't see it and took a deep breath. The smell of water and green meadows, moss and the earthy odor of rotting leaves filled his nose and he couldn't remember feeling this relaxed for a long time.

Blinking his eyes open his gaze was still directed into the water in front of him. Little bubbles of air broke the surface and movement caught his eye. Something white, moving just a few feet under but deep enough that its outlines were swallowed by the darkness of the deeper water.

"Did you see that?" he asked, but when he turned to his brother, he realized Dean had walked back to the car and gotten out a sawed off and a small hand gun. It felt somehow wrong in this ambiance to handle weapons and Sam's stomach clenched painfully, as if there was a physical reaction to the possibility of having to carry a weapon.

"Do you think that's necessary?" Sam asked before he could refrain and ... yes, he probably did deserve the disbelieving look. "Forget I said that," he added and looked back to the lake. It had gone quiet again, back to its glassy appearance. There was something about the view. A change in the atmosphere. Something scary, yet serene and he could almost feel a hum in the air.

"Do you feel that?"

"If you mean hunger and a strange need not to contaminate this forest with beer coasters... I guess so," Dean smirked and handed Sam the smaller weapon. "Let's go."

They started walking, Dean ahead with Sam following a few meters behind and with every passing step it felt more like they had entered a fairy land. The forest had been here long before people had settled down and it would probably outlive mankind as well. The trees around them stood high and silent, sentinels of an ancient wilderness. Their barks were covered with lush leaves from an alien looking plant that was snaking around the trunks like poison ivy on a facade and flowers with pearly white petals stood out with their brilliance. The ground beneath their feet was soft and squashy like the perfect mattress for a midday nap and Sam had to fight the urge to kneel down and touch it to make sure it wasn't made of green cotton balls.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," Dean murmured and Sam snorted.

"I didn't know you read 'Wizard of Oz'," he said.

"Saw the movie," Dean replied with a shrug, halting to have a look around. The lake was still to their left, the sparkling surface just visible through the trees, while sunbeams were fighting their way through the leaves above, bathing everything in a misty twilight. Like there was filter in the air, swallowing loud sounds.

It almost looked like smoke or fog. Just the hint of a haze. It made the colors around them more pale and washed out giving everything a touch of a dream like complexion. The birds twittered. The water was dancing lazily against the shore, a light steady rhythm of _swooosh...swooosh...swooosh_ causing reeds to rustle and sway in the lulling motion.

"Dean," Sam whispered, coming to a halt as he took in the surroundings and his brother replied equally huskily.

"Yeah?"

"This is... kinda awesome. I think I really _want_ to go fishing now."

"I know."

But as the words were spoken out loud something changed.

With a sudden feeling of anxiety Sam could have sworn the trees around them leaned down, the tree tops coming closer as if they were giants bowing to the ground and craning their necks to get a better view at the little ants at their feet. The wind made moaning noises, the branches trembled in what felt like anger and hostile excitement. Close to panic, Sam whirled around searching for the reason for malevolent behavior, when suddenly he heard the loud, hollering voices of men. They seemed to come from everywhere, their rage sounding alien in his ears even though Sam knew they were human. There was another angry bellow, the vibrancies bouncing back from the trees. Something splashed in the water and Sam whirled around, expecting to see an animal - a large frog or maybe a beaver – but the troubled surface of the water was already calming again as a shot rang out, hitting the water only a few feet away from where the brothers were staring at the lake.

"Shit!" Dean cursed. "Guess we found the hunters, huh?"

"I think the hunters found _us_," Sam corrected and they looked at each other as another shot hit too close to their position. Without another word they ran.

The trees to Sam's left blurred into each other. To his right the surface of the water formed turbulent waves even though there was no particular strong wind at the moment and some part of his brain wanted to check out the phenomena while the survival instinct kept his feet moving. Three more shots rang out in quick succession and one particularly loud wave crashed against the overgrown waterside. A loud splash made Sam stop in his tracks and as he turned around, expecting Dean to be following closely he could see his brother land in the water. Dean's body hit the surface like a stone and sank as if he was being dragged downwards. Fast.

"Dean!" Sam yelled, fear for his brother's life overtaking his own instincts; he didn't even realize the bullets were passing him like drops in a heavy rain. "Deeean!"

He reached the water after a few strides, wondering why they tended to get in real trouble every time water was involved. He didn't take the time to remove his shoes or his jacket and just ran into the lake. The chilly water reached to his knees when he dived in head first and immediately an unnatural silence pressed heavy against his eardrums. He blinked a few times until his eyes got used to the new circumstances and he was surprised when he found himself in a turquoise kind of jungle. There were long leaves of dark green and brown algae floating next to him and a few meters away he could see the outlines of his unmoving brother who was sinking quickly, as if an anchor had been swapped around his ankles.

_Oh God. Please! Dean!_

It felt like he was on another planet. His movements felt jerky and slow. So incredibly slow while his brother was fading away so incredibly fast. How much time had passed since Dean had fallen? It felt like ages even though it had probably been no more than a few seconds. But under water even time seemed to have a different consistency. Sam started pedaling, his shoes making it even harder and the air still caught in his clothes threatened to drag him back towards the surface. The sunlight above filtered through the water, making it strangely shimmering, like diamonds floating.

Something fast swooshed past him and with terror he realized it was a bullet. Then another one. And another one. Those damn hunters were shooting aimlessly into the water and sooner or later they would hit him as they had probably hit Dean.

_Dean!_

The deeper he went the less he could see. His lungs screamed for air but he didn't dare let his fading brother out of his sight.

He wanted to send his unsaid yell into the dark abyss beneath him as a large weight pressed on his chest, not just because of the missing air and he could see the darkness approach. Reaching his arm out he fought against the urge to get back to the surface but he couldn't help it. Two strong kicks and he was floating to the surface. The bullets around him were still passing him by like falling stars and his fear of drowning was combined with the fear of being shot by hunters who aimed at everything that moved in the water.

The surface was so close. Close enough that he could see the sun beaming through it. But as his panic and his unconquerable need for air overpowered his straight thinking, something grabbed his ankles. Hard. He realized the bullets were coming in a great number and he could even track their routes as if they were in slow motion. A sharp pain nicked at his shoulder and he shuddered, opened his mouth and could feel the agonizing rush of water into his lungs.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART TWO**

It was true that Sam had lived through a lot. In his life as a hunter he'd been shot, strangled, kicked and cut open. He'd been burned and slashed and even tortured. And yes, he'd also almost drowned once or twice so it wasn't really surprising that his mind was strangely clear as he realized his situation. And the thought _Huh? Last time I drowned it definitely didn't feel as peaceful_ wasn't weird at all. Right?

Where there should been pain there was now a strangely mollified peace. No panic, just simple acceptance and an almost surreal serenity.

How the heck could Sam be that focused on his mental state when he should be dying but at the same time...wasn't?

That thought made him open his eyes and he blinked lazily. And indeed, he was still under water. No question. He was deep enough that the water was murky and brownish, the sand and mud under his feet stirred from his constant kicking was making it hard to see farther than a few feet. Opening his mouth, he tasted the cool, dirty liquid and closed it again. His lungs expanded and Sam pressed his right hand against his chest, which felt fine. There was a pain in his shoulder and he remembered being shot at but it was nothing compared to the agony his lungs had had to suffer as he'd felt the water rush through his nose and into his airway right into his body.

So, how come he was still alive?

Weaving his hands up and down he turned around slowly and recoiled with an unheard scream as he found his brother next to him. Dean's eyes were closed and even though they found themselves on the murky ground of a lake Sam could clearly see an angry stripe on his brother's temple that went on few inches under his hairline where blood was constantly being washed out. They had shot Dean in the head. In the freaking _head_.

Forgetting about the mystery of his sudden merman state Sam touched Dean's face, his fingers blindly searching for a pulse. The mud made his fingers slippery and he searched for a while before he found the comforting beat just below his brother's skin. Relief flooded through Sam and as he saw small bubbles rise from between Dean's lips he was confident his brother was breathing, too.

Great. First step made. Now he could concentrate on what the heck was going on here.

They were deep under water. Sam estimated at least 15 feet as the far away light indicated. Twirling around in a circle Sam couldn't see more than a few shapeless blobs until he saw a white face - just an arm's length away - staring at him, waiting for him to realize it was there. Sam gave a shout of surprise but the only thing that left his mouth were multi-sized bubbles, rising up fast.

_Be still, child_. He heard a voice. It was a little contorted but still amazingly audible from where Sam was standing. He couldn't say whether it was male or female. It was just clear and soothing and so endlessly wise that Sam complied without resistance.

It was more a reflex that made his lips move as if he wanted to say something but only more bubbles rose in front of his nose and he tried to make his face as questioning as possible.

_You're safe. Don't worry._

Well, Sam had already gotten _that_ at least, more or less.

Putting himself between the creature and his brother, he stared at it, now only inches away from him. It had come close enough that Sam could see its hair flying lazily around its head. White strands that were almost dancing around a longish face with big green eyes that seemed too large. High cheek bones, a straight nose and a pointed chin made it almost look like a caricature version of Cher in one of Jess's favorite movies. Wouldn't that be too funny to have found the inspiration for her movie _Mermaids_?

The surprise must have shown on Sam's face because the creature smiled pleasantly.

_I want to help. I'm not going to hurt you. And I know you're not going to hurt me, Samuel._

Sam knew he really should stop being surprised at this point and he waited for the creature to continue.

_Who are you? What are you? _Sam thought, trying to make the creature understand and from the way it tilted its head Sam was pretty sure it _did_ understand him.

_I know who I am. But I'm not sure how to explain you what I am. I just_ am.

The water around them was barely moving. Nothing but darkness, silence and an uncomfortable pressure, as if they were buried under a few tons of rubble. Here, deep down, no wind was disturbing the water and since he had stopped kicking the sand had settled down around him, making the environment clearer and less murky.

_You're a water sprite, aren't you?_ Sam wondered and the creature smiled. The amused expression made its face shine with a transcendental beauty that would have robbed Sam's breath if he weren't breathing water already.

_I find it amusing that humans always must have words for everything._

So, he was actually talking with a water sprite. Sam pointed at his own chest. _How do you do this?_

_I told you, I wanted to help_. Its expression turned sad.

_Did you help the boy too?_ Sam wanted to know.

_The boy..._ The creatures eyes widened, the corners of its mouth wrinkled and it made such a shattering impression of utter distress and sadness that Sam regretted having asked in the first place. _I wanted to help but I was too late_. Its voice rose into such a wailing, pitying sound that Sam backed away, bumping against Dean who chose this moment to give a sign of life.

Sam turned around, seeing into the open eyes of his brother and into an expression of utter terror.

_Dean!_ Sam meant to say but again bubbles rose from his mouth, making the whole situation more difficult. Dean started kicking and squirming as if he was in ropes and-not having another choice-Sam dug his shoe into the soft mud and kicked with all his might, taking Dean with him. It only took him a few seconds to reach the surface, quickly followed by Dean.

Sam's fingers were wrapped around Dean's collar and if it hadn't been for the death grip he would have lost contact. Gasping for air, Dean had his head tilted backwards. Little waves were crashing against his jaw and his floundering didn't exactly help with the staying above the surface. His mouth was wide open as if he wanted to take in three breaths at the same time and there was something wild in his eyes. Confusion and still a hint of the panic Sam had seen on the bottom of the lake. Now that the wound on his head wasn't constantly washed out, blood was starting to flow from it, covering his whole left side with a watery red film.

"Calm down, Dean, I've got you," Sam bellowed, painfully coughing up some water and began to swim towards the shore. It took him a few powerful kicks to drag himself and his brother far enough that he could finally feel the ground beneath his feet. Dean had gone still but after a reassuring glance Sam could see he was awake albeit groggy. The blood made his face look pale and the whites of his eyes stood out like a caught rabbit's.

"Sam?" Dean croaked as Sam pulled him closer and helped him get on his feet.

"Yeah?"

"What the..." Dean began but a violent coughing fit stopped him. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's torso and helped him waddle to solid ground where they both dropped down, all energy deflating like a balloon poked with a hot needle. Another gush of water came out of Dean's mouth and he kept gagging on all fours, all the while being steadied by Sam who was nervously watching out for gung-ho hunters.

It seemed ages until Dean spit out the last drops of water that still leaked out between his bluish lips, which were slowly returning to a more healthy shade of pink. With a groan Dean let himself sink to the side and looked up at Sam.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Sam asked concerned, ignoring the trickle in his own throat. Clearing his throat he spat out some lake water and put a hand against Dean's neck, unnecessarily checking for Dean's pulse.

His hand was promptly pushed aside as Dean said grumpily: "I'm fine. Stop fussing." After one last cough he took a deep breath, apparently relishing the feeling of his expanding lungs with a contented sigh but it was quickly swept away with a groan as he obviously realized there was something wrong with his head. Lifting his left hand he touched his temple before Sam could stop him and hissed angrily.

"What happened?" Dean wanted to know, blinking a few times. Then he got his elbows under him and pushed himself into a sitting position, letting his head hang between his knees.

"You were shot at," Sam explained flatly. "Then fell into the water."

Dean looked up, looking him in the eyes, then understanding lit up in these hazel orbs and a jerk went through his body.

"In the water... there was something in the water," Dean said, staring out at the lake. "Did you see it? How did you..." Dean blinked again, then looked back at Sam. "You're wet."

Rolling his eyes Sam relaxed slightly, letting his adrenaline level finally ebb away. His right shoulder twinged and when he guided his hand towards it a sharp pain made him wince.

"You're such a genius, man," Sam said and looked down at his soaked clothes. The blue denim made it impossible to see but he knew the bullet had merely grazed his shoulder. It probably wouldn't even need stitches. Carefully he lifted his arm to make sure all his muscles were intact.

"Are you hurt?" Dean wanted to know, worried all of a sudden and he pulled himself up, helping Sam out his jacket.

"Not worth mentioning," Sam replied, then grinned lopsidedly. "We're quite a pair." He stood up, helping his brother on his feet and they swayed for a few seconds before they found their balance.

"Hey! You!"

A yell made them turn around and they watched as a man come out of the woods, a shotgun swung over his shoulder.

Sam stepped forward and could feel his brother's hands on his biceps, trying to hold him back from trampling the man to death. "You almost killed my brother!" he yelled back angrily and pointed a finger at the man, who looked apologetic enough.

"Sorry, boys," the man growled. "It was an accident, I swear. We didn't-" The man's eyes showed an honest shame as they traveled between the two brothers and Sam realized it really had been an accident. Not that it made things better. When the man had gotten close enough Sam shoved his finger against the unknown hunter's chest. "You could have killed us."

"Damn, I'm so sorry," the man repeated. "I just... I thought... I... Wait..." The man blinked, then really _looked_ at them, his eyes narrowed. "You... you're the Winchester boys? Aren't you?" He swallowed and pain flickered over his visage, revealing a turmoil of emotions. "Those fuckers... they killed my son!" With his gun he pointed at the lake. "There's something in the water. It killed my boy. It killed my _son_."

"Mr. Weston... please," Sam began and for a moment suspicion flickered in the man's eyes at the mention of his name but Sam spoke already on. "There's got to be..." he started to insist but was interrupted by Dean.

"What's down there?"

"We don't know yet," Weston said, his voice now steadier, determined. "But whatever it is, I'm going to kill it."

Two more men now walked out of the forest, staying behind and observing, nervously stepping from one foot to the other

"Dean," Sam hissed and grabbed his brother's arm, pulling him a few feet to the side. In a low voice so the hunter couldn't hear him, he said: "Listen Dean, whatever's down there, it doesn't mean any harm. It _saved_ you."

"Pulling people under water is a strange way of saving them."

Sam wiped water out of his eyes. "Please, Dean. You have to believe me. I really don't think the creature wanted to kill the boy."

Dean was silent for a moment. "What kind of creature are we talking about here anyway?"

"I'm not yet sure..."

"Is there anything you know for sure?"

"Yeah, Dean. In fact, there is. If it weren't for the creature, we wouldn't be standing here." He winced as he strained the muscles in his shoulder. "The only harm I see that's been done so far came out of the guns of these hunters."

There wasn't much Dean could reply to that and he capitulated with a sigh. "We should get you checked out."

"Me? I'm not the one with the hole in his head."

"I don't have..." A dizzy spell made Dean sway and Sam grabbed his brother's arm, holding him upright.

"See what I mean?" Sam said, then turned towards the hunter. "I'm getting my brother out of here."

He didn't wait for an answer and steered his brother back towards where the car was parked. He could see its chrome twinkling through the trees and it only took them a few minutes before they reached it.

"Give me the keys," Sam instructed.

"What? No. I'm driving." Dean countered. His face-at least the side that was still visible due to the waterish blood- revealed such a grimace of indignity that Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes.

" Dean, you can't even walk straight." As if on cue Dean stumbled, having to lean heavily on a tree in order to not fall down face first.

Grumbling, Dean rummaged around in his pockets, his eyes widening almost comically as he rummaged and rummaged and produced nothing but a sodden, wrinkled package of M&Ms.

"You're kidding, right?" Sam uttered. And if he kept rolling his eyes, they would stay stuck sooner or later.

"Those freaking-" Dean yelled and was on the verge of stomping back straight into the water-head injury forgotten-but Sam held him back.

"Dean, please." Sam winced as Dean shook off his grip, rattling his battered shoulder. The sound of distress was enough to make Dean stop in his tracks and his shoulders sagged visibly, worry for his brother overpowering his anger for the inconvenient fact that the car keys were somewhere on the bottom of this God-forsaken lake while the spare ones lay in the hotel room-safe and sound and out of reach.

"Okay, fine!" Dean took a calming breath and nodded, acting as if he was doing Sam a favor. But honestly, the younger man didn't care as long as this would mean medical attention for his brother and dry clothes for himself.

When they finally sat in the hot-wired car-with Dean sitting behind the wheel of course-Sam let himself sag against the backrest and close his eyes, teeth chattering all of a sudden. His soaked clothes were unpleasantly glued to his chilled skin and a drowsiness settled into his bones. Turning up the heat to full blast, Dean drove slowly over the bumpy road, be it due to his own aching head or his worry for Sam's injury. Probably a bit of both. He only sped up the car when they were back on the regular street.

"So, care to explain what exactly happened?" Dean demanded.

"Water fairies," Sam replied tiredly.

"I was shot in the head and you're the one hallucinating, that's just awesome," Dean frowned.

"No, Dean, I'm serious. I think there's some kind of water fairies or... sprites or something in that lake. It pulled you under water when these idiot hunters kept shooting at us."

"You're serious?"

"Of course, I'm serious. That's what I said."

"Then how come I didn't drown?"

Sam thought for a second before answering. "The creature did something so we could breathe." And before Dean could answer that he quickly added: "Yes, Dean. I'm still _very_ serious."

"Okay, fine," Dean said. "So you jumped in the water and all of a sudden you went all Arielle?"

"If you want to put it like that? I guess so."

" That is the most weird thing that's ever happened to us," Dean said and Sam silently agreed. "So what did the creature look like?"

"Like Cher in Mermaids," Sam said and just like he'd expected, Dean looked at him, his eyes getting bigger and bigger. "What? It's the truth."

"Did it sing the Shoop-Shoop Song, too?"

Sam grinned. "Nope, just talked." Dean stayed silent, obviously expecting more to come. "When you woke up it wanted to tell me about the boy. It said it had just wanted to help. That's it. You really have a bad timing, by the way," he grunted.

"Sorry that my head-wound-induced unconsciousness was a source of inconvenience for you."

The car crossed into town and five minutes later Dean parked the car in front of a small building, which served as a tiny hospital and entered it, still leaving wet imprints on the tiles. A young intern, probably no older than Sam himself came towards them, his eyes round as saucers and a million questions on his lips. Sam knew they must have been making a miserable impression. Dean's face was mostly dry except for the thin crust of blood. Sam, in the meantime, tried really hard not to have his teeth chatter too loudly while he pressed his left hand against his still bleeding shoulder.

He really hoped, no one took pictures.

-o-

Dr. Carlita Kelly was a woman in her late forties with American Indian roots and a no-nonsense attitude that would have John begging for coaching lessons. With one quick evaluation she first cleaned Dean's head wound, asked the usual questions. _No, no dizziness_ (at that point Sam threw Dean a warning look) _well, maybe a little_ and _You're holding up four fingers_ and sewed the wound closed with five stitches and the diagnosis of a light concussion.

Sam's shoulder was done even faster. She cleaned it, put some gauze on it and patted him on the unhurt shoulder. "As good as new," she informed them and Dean quickly had to hide his grin behind his hand at the uncomfortable look on Sam's face. The movement made dizzy Dean for the fraction of second. He closed his eyes a little too fast and had to swallow the bile. Unfortunately, this didn't go unnoticed by the doctor and she narrowed her eyes. "No dizziness, huh?"

He felt himself blush and managed a wry, apologetic grin, the dizziness already passing.

"Are you one of the hunters?" she asked, her tone almost unfriendly as she rummaged around in cupboard, then put a pill in Dean's hand, followed by a paper cup filled with water. "It'll help with the nausea," she explained, then stared at the two brothers. "So? Are you? Because I told you guys before, you should be leaving this town if you don't want to get into any more trouble."

Dean looked at Sam, both men sharing a surprised look and Sam stammered, "Uhh... no. We're not ...well we are hunters but..."

"No!" Dean interrupted harshly and hoped that it sounded honest enough. "We're not one of those hunters. We've only arrived in town today."

"So, you come into town and less than 12 hours later you're sitting in my hospital with gunshot wounds. Care to explain or should I call the sheriff immediately?"

"No," Sam said hastily. "There's no need to. It was an accident."

"An accident, huh? I seem to get a lot of those these days." She turned away, rearranging the medical tools and waste she had needed to patch them up, all the while mumbling. "Accidents my ass."

"Did you..." Sam started anew, "... treat the boy? The boy who died a few days ago?"

Her eyes sparkled with anger and an immense dosage of distrust that even Sam's puppy dog eyes couldn't make go away. It helped a little though and her hostility deflated slightly, replaced by a sudden sadness.

"Yes, but there was nothing to treat. The boy was long dead when he got here."

Dean tilted his head, surprised by the visual display of her compassion.

"We read about it in the paper," Dean said. "Heard he was pulled under water. We're..." he trailed off when his aching head made it impossible to come up with a credible explanation and Sam went on, as if they had planned the sentence from the beginning.

"... students from New York," Sam said, throwing a pointed glare at Dean. "We study zoology and ... well, we wanted to look into this case."

"Case? Sounds more like you're cops or something. But let me tell you this, you'll won't find some Nessie monster in that lake or some man-eating giant carnivorous plants. Enough people tried to find that already."

"But... I saw something," Sam said and stared almost ashamedly at the floor.

Damn, his brother would make one fine actor. Dean pressed a hand against his mouth to cover the grin, coughing to distract the doctor.

The doctor sighed, as if she had heard this particular sentence already too often. "It was probably a rotten tree trunk or a frog."

"No, it looked almost human," Sam insisted and this time, Dean looked up sharply more than a little surprised at Sam's sudden generosity of information.

"Sam!"

"No," Sam said with a pout. "I saw it. It helped us."

The woman looked up, almost curious now and to Dean's relief as much as his surprise her whole manner seemed to switch. "So, you've seen them too, huh?"

"Seen what?" Sam looked up, a look of hopeful wonder in his eyes that reminded Dean of a young Sam who heard the story of the Easter Bunny for the first time.

"The spirits in the water, of course," the doctor said and smiled with a hint of melancholy. "To our ancestors, this lake was sacred since it was believed that the ghost of our forefathers went to that lake after they died."

"Seriously?" Sam inquired, then-at Dean-, "See? I told you."

"Yeah, you did Sammy. You're a real genius."

Dr. Kelly huffed, amused. "So, you're brothers, huh?"

Even Dean widened his eyes in surprise and as if it would be explanation enough she said with twinkling eyes, "I have three sons in your age. I recognize a healthy dose of fraternal rivalry when I see it. So stop the act and tell me why you're here. You don't actually want me to believe that you're students."

Sam looked slightly offended by this remark and Dean almost snorted. Their cover was blown to hell and Sam was annoyed about not looking like a student? This was bizarre but Dean could see a smile play at the corners of the doctor's lips. "Don't take me for a fool, boys. I've seen enough bullshit in my life and you both are carrying bullshit around like caps on your head. So why are you really here?"

Dean's amusement died when she looked at him sharply and he felt himself blush-again. What was it with the woman in this town?

"I told the truth. We're here because of the dead boy," Sam insisted, his finally dry bangs hanging in his face.

"Who shot you? And don't tell me it was an accident."

"Well it was," Sam insisted.

"So, the hunters, huh? I knew the sheriff should have taken the whole thing more seriously in the first place."

Dean pricked up his ears. "What do you mean?"

"That boy?" Eyebrows wandered up and almost vanished into her graying hairline. "He was long dead when he was thrown into the water."

"What?" Sam asked. "But the newspaper..."

"... is wrong," she interrupted bluntly. "The sheriff didn't want to have any trouble in town so he went with the obvious. The boy jumped into the water, hit his head and drowned."

"Why are you telling us this?" Dean wanted to know, narrowing his eyes.

The doctor looked at Dean, then Sam. Then back at Dean. Crossing her arms resolutely in front of her chest she replied, "Because something tells me that you two will make sure this death won't go unrevenged. And take those pills," she instructed and without another word she left the room. Dean finally took the pill, swallowing it without the water.

"Is it just me or are the women in this town all crazy?" Sam muttered, almost causing Dean to cough the pill back up. Quickly, he took a sip of the water after all.

-o-

They spent the night in the motel-hungry, in Sam's case and sick with too much sugar in Dean's-and researched everything on the lake that they could find on the net.

The most remarkable thing about the lake, though, was the fact that it was remarkably unremarkable. Other than some tests performed in the late 90's which had stated that the water was clean enough to be used as a reservoir there was nothing suspicious about it. No earlier drownings, no mysterious deaths or missing persons.

"No peeing into the lake, then, Sammy." Dean had grinned at Sam who had given up the research at this point.

They drove back to the lake first thing next morning and as the Impala entered the clearing the stunning view greeted them. As though in a trance, Sam got out of the car and let his gaze wander along the shore on the other side. It was so easy to forget everything else, Sam realized and for a second-just a tiny little second-he could avoid the heavy burden on his shoulder called the Apocalypse. And just for the splinter of a moment, the world seemed at peace.

It didn't last, though, and Sam blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the cobwebs in his brain that were attempting to lull him into a false state of safety.

"Something's wrong," he said and out of his peripheral vision he saw his brother raise an eyebrow.

"You mean, just because something is peaceful and tranquil and makes you want to shut your mouth for just a few seconds to savor the quiet, it's evil?" Dean asked, then opened and closed his mouth a few times as if wanting to add something. "I just used the word savor, didn't I?"

Sam stared at him, his own eyebrows arching and with a frown Dean charged the rifle in his hand. "You're right. Something _is_ wrong."

They started walking into the forest, always listening for footsteps, distant voices or gun fire. They had no intention of repeating yesterday's accident with the hunters but after a ten minute walk it was clear that they were alone. Alone as in _Alone_. There was nothing. Not even the sound of birds. No wind in the leaves, no rustling in the undergrowth. It was like they were walking through a 3D picture filled with the smell of earth and trees.

They decided to split up after another ten minutes of walking. Not entirely but apart enough that they could cover more ground without losing eye contact with Sam choosing a path directly along the shore while Dean was walking a few yards to his left through the thick brush. Sam could see glimpses of his brother, appearing between every other tree and hear him curse every other step about roots and mosquitoes, but other than that, there was no one around.

The ground under his feet was soft and he felt like he was walking on a mattress. His eyes directed on the ground he saw movement to his left and he halted, on the verge of calling out for Dean. The shout was stuck in his throat as a face appeared in the water, just a few inches below the surface. Fingers, white as bones and just as thin, reached out and Sam kneeled down, not even realizing that his feet and jeans were getting wet and with slow, measured movements he mirrored the creature's gesture. Their index fingers touched where air and water met and Sam could hear a voice from somewhere far away. It was a scrambled mess, nonsense, just hissing and gurgling like a radio under the water and it definitely came from the creature in front of him.

Sam bent his head lower and lower while the creature moved away and when his large body vanished into the lake, it didn't even cause any disturbances. Just a smacking, hollow _splash_ as he was sucked under water.

-o-

Through the trees Dean could see the sparkling, tiny waves of the water, reflecting the sunlight and sending little bursts of diamond glitter into his eyes and he had to squint his eyes to see Sam, who had stopped with his back to Dean. Staring out onto the lake, Sam didn't move, not even when Dean yelled, "Sam? See anything?"

That was the moment when Sam took two steps into the water, arms flailing to keep his balance on the slippery ground. He kneeled down and Dean's view was too limited to see what it was that had Sam's attention so pinned.

"Saaaam?"

Dean started running, stumbling three times and falling hard. The roots viciously grabbed for his ankles. When he reached the place where he had seen Sam walk straight into the water, he just stood there, staring out on the lake as if he expected it to spit out his brother. His stomach clenched painfully and even though he knew and believed what Sam had told him about the creature and their freaking breathing abilities... Dean didn't like the fact that Sam was down there. Without him.

"Saaaam!" he yelled again. His voice echoing over the lake.

He sat down, intending to wait a few more seconds before panicking.

_Then_ he panicked.


	3. Chapter 3

**PART THREE**

The vast density of the water surrounded him and Sam strained to hear the murmured words that had lured him into the water in the first place. Still holding his breath he felt light-headed and slightly stupid for walking into the water like a lemming jumping off a cliff.

His movements felt jerky and so incredibly slow. At first, he heard half-broken sentences no louder than a whisper, but as he got used to the sound of the water, he began to hear more clearly. Then, a gentle finger touched his face and the painful weight that had settled onto his chest due to the held breath vanished. He hesitated, then took the now familiar breath of water.

_The boy..._ the creature whispered, starting where it had stopped at their last meeting. _I was there when he died._

Sam opened his mouth, trying to speak but it resulted in the dizzying rise of bubbles. The creature understood him anyway.

_He was out there, on the shore. Another human came up to him and they started to fight. I could not say what the first human looked like because you all look alike to me. But one of them had no eyes._

'No eyes?' Sam thought. 'What does that mean?'

_Unseeing. Black as the deepest trench in the water. No Soul. No good. No feelings._

'A demon? You saw the boy being killed by a demon?'

_An ugly bag of bones and skin._

'Nice way to put it,' Sam thought, amused. 'But was it one of the hunters? Did you see that?'

_Maybe. I don't know. You all look alike to me._

'So you said.'

_We don't mean to hurt anyone. We just want to be left alone_, the creature said and its voice sounded so tired and sad that Sam felt his throat constrict painfully. He opened his eyes. His surroundings were blurry and washed out, the color of dirty puddles. But the white shape of the sprite stood out like light in the darkness.

'I know. I'm sorry.'

_You have nothing to be sorry for. You have done nothing wrong._

'I wish,' Sam sighed in his mind before he could restrain.

_Maybe you don't know yourself as well as you think, Samuel._

Sam blinked, trying to get rid of the fuzzy layer on his eyes but the water in this part of the lake was too murky. Sand and small rubble surrounded him like little moons in orbit and he had problems estimating how far away the water sprite was floating. Its outlines like mere ink blobs on a wet sheet of paper.

'How do you know my name?' he wanted to know.

_I know because you're here. _

Yeah, that makes sense, Sam groaned inwardly and concentrated on the silent talking. 'Are you sure it was a demon who killed the boy?'

_Demon, human... there's no difference. Both are black inside._

Sam swallowed, tasted the slushy water on his tongue. 'That's not true,' he insisted. 'Demons are evil.'

_So can be humans. _The creature sighed again, causing the water around Sam to tremble. _We help when we can but we can't help enough to make the pain you bring lessen. Humans are always hurt and so sad and all they can worry about is life. If only they stopped worrying so much about it, they could _live _it._

'You've given this quite some thought, haven't you?'

This time the sprite didn't answer and Sam felt its concentration waning. Like it was distracted. A cold wave hit Sam in the face and he became aware that he had probably spent more than a few minutes under water already. Dean would be freaking out.

He blinked one last time but the creature was gone. With a strong kick he pushed himself upwards, arms reaching out to clear the path of the thick strands of algae and other water plants populating the upper regions of the lake. Finally, his head broke through the surface and immediately his lungs protested, spitting out large gushes of water.

-o-

Dean had searched the water for what felt like hours. He was slowly becoming frantic as time passed and there was no sign of Sam. He dove down again, taking a large gulp of breath. But every time he spent less and less time under water before the need for air forced him back.

He couldn't lose Sam here, not now. Oddly enough, this wasn't a way that Dean thought of Sam or him biting the dust-especially not after what happened at the dam. They really should start to take cases in the desert. He took a deep breath again and dove back into the water, hoping that this time he would find Sam. He came up for much needed air, taking a second to gaze again over the water and the shore-when he saw a huge ripple in the water next to him.

He swam towards the ripple, yelling, "Sammy!" just as Sam broke the surface gasping for breath. Dean swam over and grabbed Sam to keep him afloat as they swam back towards the shore.

As they reached the shore, Sam gasped and breathed in a mouthful of air.

Not wanting to take any chances, Dean made Sam sit down on the shore while he checked him for any hidden injuries.

"Dean, Dean, I'm okay!" Sam gasped as he tried to bat Dean's hands away.

"Sam, what did I tell you about not going into the freaking water?" Dean replied.

"Calm down. I'm okay," Sam replied. "The water spirit called me to it to tell me about the boy that died out here."

"So what? You took another nose dive hoping not to drown and then you had a nice chat with _Arielle_?" Dean growled angrily, "I can't believe you found trouble again. Didn't we agree not to go near the water alone?"

"I know. I'm sorry, okay, but…I couldn't ignore it." He cleared his throat once more and smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Yuck. The water tastes disgusting."

Dean shook his head. "Geez, man. The next time you decide to take your chance to _not drown_, give me a warning."

Nodding in understanding, Sam said, "I know. It's the same for me, but you know that what we do-just isn't the safest job out there. You have to trust me, Dean. Just trust me."

Sighing, Dean nodded. "Okay, okay. So, was it at least worth it? What did you learn?"

"Honestly?" Sam shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Come again?" Dean huffed, raising an eyebrow. "I ruined my boots for nothing? Again?"

"The sprite was a little... uhm... cryptic. From the sounds of it the boy was actually murdered by one of the hunters but..."

"But what?"

"It sounded to me like a demon."

"Demon? As in possession?"

"It mentioned black, empty eyes. Right after calling us ugly bags of bones and skin."

"Charming. And really creative. I hope you exchanged phone numbers."

Sam rolled his eyes, wiping wet bangs out of his eyes. "I'm not sure he—she-it or whatever actually meant demon or just an evil person. It could mean both." With a groan he heaved himself into a standing position, shaking his head violently to dry the dripping strands of hair. "What?" he asked, when he realized his brother was staring at him with a grin on his lips.

"I just..." Dean began and had to suppress laughter, feeling more light-hearted than he should. More carefree than the situation allowed. They were in the middle of a case with no information whatsoever except for a drowned kid and a possibly possessed person while the Apocalypse was standing on the front porch waiting patiently for its great entrance and the last seals to be broken. "You look like a drowned puppy," he finally snickered. "Glad we thought of bringing towels this time."

Sam nodded with a pout. "I have to admit, getting soaked is getting old pretty fast. Our next case will be in Texas."

"Texas?"

"No water."

"Gotcha."

They walked back to the car and dried off as best as they could.

"So," Sam started, rubbing furiously at his hair, "... the boy didn't just drown in the lake he was obviously pushed after being clubbed over the head. Doesn't really sound demonic at all." "Yeah, more... domestic." Dean grimaced, wondering when he had begun to think of common murders as domestic. "You know what this means, right? We have to find the murderer."

"Yeah, I agree. But Sammy, it's very likely that the boy's murderer is of the human variety and you know that we just don't deal with humans. Maybe we should just leave it up to the local police. Maybe we could stick around for a while longer, just to make sure everything is demon-free." He waggled his eyebrow. "We could do some fishing."

"Dean," Sam almost growled in anger, "We took on this case and we can't hand it over to the local police now. Not when the water fairies are being blamed."

"You know how weird this sounds."

"Weird? I thought there's no such thing as weird in our job?"

"Ha," Dean puffed, grimacing as he realized his own contradiction. "Well, you know what I mean. This sounds like the unicorn case."

"There's no such thing as unicorns, Dean," Sam said, amused.

Dean grinned, his lips almost splitting his face in two. " That really must have hurt saying out loud."

"Jerk!"

"Bitch!"

"Anyway..." Sam sobered, scrunching up the towel and throwing it on the backseat. "You know we can't let the police handle it. Not yet. We need to make it clear to the hunters that the fairies are not responsible. Preferably _before_ they do something immensely stupid."

With a tired heartfelt sigh, Dean reluctantly agreed. "Fine."

"No, I mean something really, really stupid..." Hearing the urgent tone in Sam's voice Dean looked up and followed his brother's glance. There, a few yards on their left, on a short tongue of land, they could see someone crouching down, nestling somewhat helplessly in a bag filled with something that Sam obviously recognized because he started running. "Hey!", Sam yelled and Dean followed him. "Stop it!" Shocked, the man heaved himself up, leaning heavily on his knee and stared at the brothers fast approach. Sam recognized the dead boy's father , his face wrinkled with lines and blotchy with angry tears.

"What are you still doing here?" Weston barked.

"Look, you can't just blow up the lake," Sam told the man. "The water sprites didn't kill your son. They're innocent. A man was with your son on the shore and he's the one who killed him."

"What are you talking about?" the hunter asked as he turned back to setting up the charges. "My son drowned in the lake and those creatures, those evil...things just let him die. I saw it. He was pulled under water. I _saw_ it. Do you know what it feels like to see your own flesh and blood die like this?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other, thinking the same thing.

_Been there, done that. Wrote a postcard._

"Look, we understand," Dean interrupted. "Our dad spent more than twenty years seeking revenge for our mother's death. But you're not going to get your revenge by blowing up the lake. Let us find the real murderer and then you can have your revenge."

For a long second, the man stared at Dean, thinking. In the end, he just dropped the wires in his hands to the ground and nodded to the boys.

"Okay, I won't blow up the lake. Not yet. But you'd better find the bastard who killed my son otherwise I just might change my mind," he said to the boys as he turned to go back to his car.

As he drove away from the lake, Sam and Dean looked at each other.

"Did he seem a little too accepting about what we were telling him?" Sam asked.

Frowning at the car in the distance, Dean nodded. "Never mind him, Sam. You're the one who wanted to save the water-thingies by finding the human murderer, so let's get to it."

"Fairies, Dean. They're water-fairies."

Dean snorted, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like _tea party with My Little Pony_. He turned to head back to the waiting Impala, Sam lingering behind a few seconds longer and letting his gaze sweep over the peaceful lake. He'd make sure it wasn't disturbed.

Not if he could help it.

He turned and followed Dean. They had a job to do.

Though, they had to eat first. The perfect opportunity to give the diner they had seen the other day when they entered the town another chance.

-o-

It was a rush of air that woke Dean the next morning and for a moment he lay in his bed, trying to orient himself and figuring out what exactly it was that had woken him. He glanced over to the next bed and saw that Sam was still fast asleep. His brother's chest was moving up and down with a calming regularity, the sheets wrapped around his long legs like they wanted to chain him to the mattress. So, it wasn't Sam who had woken him.

"Rise and shine, Dean," came a deep rumbling voice from inside their room. Kind of amused, too. Dean yelped and grabbed for the gun under his pillow.

"Chill," Bob said and rolled his eyes. "No wonder you had an ulcer. You are much too tense considering the time." Dean glanced at the clock on his night stand. 5:47am.

"Yeah, I wonder why..." he grumbled and, swinging his legs to the floor, glanced at Bob. "So, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

Letting out a little sigh, Bob just said, "We need to talk."

"Pity. I thought you were here because of the outstanding culinary specialties." Standing up and stretching, Dean glanced between Bob and Sam. "Okay, let's step outside. I don't want you to wake up Sam."

Bob nodded and headed outside. Dean quickly and quietly threw on some clothes. Five minutes later, he joined Bob who was leaning against the Impala but stood straight when Dean shot him an annoyed look. Quickly, the angel wiped at the spot he had leaned on.

"So, what's so important that you had to come this early in the morning?" Dean asked, yawning as he leaned against the Impala with a contented smirk.

"Just wondering what you two were up to. You know, with the Apocalypse waiting and so on." Bob asked, then looked around. His gaze stopped at the large ad they'd seen when they'd entered the town. "Taking a vacation?"

"No. We're working on a case here."

"That's so nice of you two," Bob said, sarcasm dripping from his words like acid. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your little holiday. Really, I'll just ask Judgment Day to come back later."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes again. "Yeah, why don't you do that?"

"Dean..." Bob began, incredulous, his eyes almost popping out of his face.

"I _know_," Dean interrupted before the angel could say any more. "We are taking the Apocalypse serious. Honestly. I mean-how can we not with our father leading the opposite side and against us. But this... this case is important to Sam and me, okay?"

"Why?" Bob wanted to know, crossing his arms in front of his chest and hiding the large U2 lettering.

"Because, okay?" Dean answered, annoyed that now all of a sudden they even had justify their cases.

Bob merely arched an eyebrow, mocking, "Yeah, _that's_ grown-up talk."

"Look, we don't have to make excuses for what we're doing. We're helping people... or fairies. Or even freaking Tinkerbells if they're being hunted for something they didn't do. It's called justice. You should give it a try."

"I know all about justice. And I also know about priorities, okay? And yours are totally messed up."

"Priorities? There're no priorities in justice. There's either right or wrong. And what's happening here, that's very wrong. We were raised to help people. What difference can we make if we can't help those who can't fight for themselves?" With a vague gesture he pointed into the distant forest. "These hunters are blaming and killing innocent-things. If we don't help, we're no better than them."

"Oh, bullshit! Who are you? Mother Theresa?"

"No. My father's son!"

"That's where your problems start," Bob said, his voice sounding bored but tense at the same time. Slow and measured. Not his usual self.

"Why are you here?" Dean sighed. "Really? And don't tell me you decided all of a sudden that you want to exchange information with us. Because you haven't been very forthcoming with your future plans until now. "

"That's because you don't need to know..."

"Oh _that's_ great!" Dean burst out, suddenly enraged. "We're sick of it. Sick of being the punching bag for your group of tutu-wearing ballerina dudes..."

"Tutu...?"

"We don't do this anymore, got it? We just don't, okay?" It wasn't meant as a question but Bob pretended to think about anyway. Tipping his finger against his chin he stared into the light blue morning sky where a few scattered clouds were lazily drifting by.

"Uhm, no. No chance. In for a penny, in for a pound."

At Dean's crestfallen face, Bob sighed in sympathy. "Look, you and your brother deserve otherwise... better. I get that. But... this is the Apocalypse, judgment day, twilight of the gods, the Day the Earth stood still... whatever you wanna call it. There's no second attempt to make things right. And if you mess this up..."

"We? You're a freaking _angel_ for God's sake. What can we do that you can't?"

"It's not about what you can do, Dean. It's about what you _have_ to do." "So, now we're back to the cryptic prophecy stuff, right? That's going to be interesting. What have you got to share with us this time?" Dean crossed his arms, leaned his hip against the car and stared at Bob expectantly.

"Look, Dean, I'm just worried. Alastair might be on his way to get you and Sam so you might want to think about that little aspect. Sitting here is like presenting yourself well done on a tablet with an apple in your mouth."

"That's nothing new. So, obviously, you just came here to bitch after all."

"There's more," Bob replied, an urgent tone in his voice.

"What is it?" Straightening up Dean narrowed his eyes. "It's about Dad," he said. "Isn't it? Where is he?"

Bob shifted uncomfortably at the mention of John Winchester. "As far as I know, he's MIA."

"What do you mean?"

Bob sighed and answered reluctantly. "We've gotten the impression that your father has his orders to stay away from you and your brother since it would be too risky."

"For whom?" Dean asked. "Him or us?"

There was a long, silent pause and then Bob admitted, "For him."

" Why?"

Bob sighed once again and reluctantly replied, "Because in order to stop the Apocalypse, you and Sam will have to kill your father."

"Uhh, what?" Dean repeated dumbly. "Are you kidding me?"

"Sure, I'm kidding. Because the Apocalypse is such a fun game."

"Kill our father?" Dean whispered softly, tasting the words like they were poison in his mouth. "We can't. We could never... He's our father."

"You've tried more than once," Bob argued.

" Yeah, we tried. And if we'd really wanted, we'd have been successful a long time ago. But..."

"No buts, Dean. This is it. This is the only way. The only solution. This time the whole world is at stakes. Are you willing to sacrifice a billion lives for your father's?"

"That's... not fair," Dean murmured, as he felt all color leave his face. His knees were shaking, his fingers cold and tingly.

"Duh! Welcome to the real world."

"I'm telling you, Bob, we can't do that. There's gotta be... there has to. We will save him. We at least have to try."

For a long moment Bob stared at him, studying him, as if reading his face. Then he nodded. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Dean."

Within the blink of an eye, the angel was gone, leaving Dean behind like a puppy bound to a post.

Suddenly bone tired, Dean wiped his hands over his face, wondering how the hell he could possible tell Sam.

"I'll show you how we Winchesters do it," he said to no one, running a hand over the smooth metal of the Impala's roof. "We've always done things our way. This time will be no different."

He pushed himself away from the car, striding back toward the motel room where Dean could hear the distant sound of streaming water. Sam had probably woken up already and was using up the meager amount of hot water.


	4. Chapter 4

**PART FOUR**

As Dean entered the room, Sam stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his middle and another one draped around his shoulders. He smiled at Dean.

"The shower is great, man. I might have left some warm water," Sam said, his grin quickly turning into a frown of worry as Dean grumbled, "Exactly what I need right now. More water."

"Are you okay?" Sam asked.

As if he only now realized that Sam was in the room, Dean replied, "What? Um yeah, man. I'm good."

Sam frowned in concern. "Well, if you're sure," he said.

Concerned, Sam watched his brother vanish in the bathroom.

He'd woken up to the sight of Dean's empty bed which wasn't such a rare occurrence. Sam assumed that Dean had gotten up early and went out to get them breakfast from yesterday's diner, in which-to their relief-it had not smelled like the French Fries were deep-fried with last century's grease. So Sam went around his usual morning routine until Dean returned to the room.

Something was up, Sam was convinced of it. First, Dean wasn't one to wake up on his own very early in the morning and second, Dean returned to the room without any breakfast. There also was Dean's "I don't want to talk about it" look which Sam knew only too well.

Despite Dean's clear reluctance with the case, Sam knew that once Dean committed himself he would see it through. So that left two possibilities: either their dad or Bob had paid Dean a recent visit. Since Sam was with Dean every waking minute of the day, the meeting had to have taken place early this morning while Sam was asleep.

Thinking back to when he had woken up, Sam didn't recall any yelling or shouting going on outside which would have been evident if it was their father outside with Dean. Things had changed from when they were growing up, heck, even from two years ago when it was the last time that they were altogether and intact as the Winchester family. Back then, Sam was the one who'd pick a fight with John and now, it was Dean who was more likely to pick a fight with the man. Especially due to the fact the man had changed sides and now was on the wrong side from his sons.

Having eliminated John Winchester, that only left Bob.

Why Bob would come to see Dean was beyond Sam. Bob knew quite well what Dean's feelings were toward him.

_I'll just have to ask Dean_, Sam decided.

Sam finished getting ready and was sitting on his made-up bed, searching the internet on the laptop when Dean finally emerged from the bathroom.

"Hey," Dean said as he passed Sam.

"Hey man," Sam replied lifting his gaze from the screen to glance at Dean. "You look a bit better."

"Yeah, I feel better. What do you say about me heading out to get us some breakfast?" Dean replied heading towards the door. "The diner last night wasn't the worst. The way they did their burgers they should be capable of making sandwiches."

Sam could tell that Dean was trying to avoid discussing what had happened outside earlier. Seeing that Dean still wasn't quite himself yet, Sam decided to let it go for now-at least until after they ate breakfast.

-o-

While Dean went to get them some breakfast—which Sam could only hope that there would be a healthy option for him to eat and not just the usual bags of peanut M&Ms-Sam sat down on his bed to continue the search for the murderer of the young boy. He had managed to get a few leads about a group of three surly men who were hanging around town during the time of the murder. The information fit the description of the three hunters and while Sam wanted to dismiss the information-seeing as it was highly unlikely the boy's father's friends had hurt him- he wasn't so sure. Especially if one of the hunters was possessed.

Looking back at his and Dean's childhood, John had kept them very isolated from the rest of the hunting community apart from a selective small group of people that John trusted with the boys.

Sam couldn't be sure that the boy's father did the same with his son and buddies, so the buddies went into the suspect pile. Next Sam looked up the weather reports for the time of the murder and was rewarded with a few hints at striking phenomena in the general area but not enough to raise his suspicions. It could be something, it could be nothing. Electrical storms didn't essentially mean demons. It could be that they were wasting their time and here was nothing supernatural going on at all. On the other hand, when had electrical storms ever been coincidental? Maybe I should be suspicious after all, Sam thought and looked up when the door opened and Dean entered.

"Hey, Sam. I got you a chicken salad, it was the only healthy option they had," his brother said as he laid out everything on the table. "Though I'm pretty sure it's leftovers from last night."

"Thanks, man," Sam answered as he got up from the bed and strode over.

As he bit into his egg and bacon sandwich, Dean spoke with his mouth full, "So have you found out more about the case?"

"Yeah, I did. There were a few demonic omens around the time. It'd support what the water sprite told me about the man having black eyes," Sam answered reluctantly, then stopped as he too dug into his own breakfast, causing Dean to narrow his eyes.

"I can hear a _but_ there."

"Well, let's just say sometimes a storm is just a storm."

"Since when have you become such an optimist?" Dean replied and Sam shrugged his head.

"I don't know," Sam answered and let himself sink back on the bed, picking at his green salad. "Considering our history with seemingly harmless cases it looks like we're dealing with demons after all."

"Weird how a demon could get so near the kid of a hunter though. And why of all people," Dean pondered, a slice of bacon half hanging out of his mouth. He threw his head backwards until the piece of meat landed on his chin and fished for it with his tongue while Sam stared at him. "What?" Dean grinned when he finally got the offending slice between his teeth.

"How am I supposed to take you seriously like that?"

"You always take me seriously."

"I..." Sam quickly shook his head, banning the distracting thoughts. At least Dean was back to his old self again. Maybe he'd been worried without a reason about Dean's earlier behavior. "Nevermind. As I said... demonic signs. I was looking at the hunter's buddies. Maybe one of them had the bad luck of being the meat suit for the demon," Sam replied.

"Maybe. We should head back to the area and check for traces of sulfur or EMF."

"Good idea," Sam replied said and concentrated back on his food. He took a few bites and cleared his throat, saying nonchalantly "So, you were awake pretty early today?"

Maybe it was his imagination but he could have sworn he saw Dean flinch.

"Couldn't sleep," Dean said absently.

"Where did you go?"

"Out."

One word answers. Evidence that something was up.

"Who did you talk to?" Sam asked, knowing he'd hit a sore point when Dean froze for the blink of an eye before replying with forced unconcern.

"Bob was here. He just wanted to know what we were doing here."

Sam frowned. "So? What did you tell him?".

"Well, what was I supposed to tell him?" his brother asked, suddenly offensive and angrier than the question justified. "I told him about the case and ... well..." Dean stopped mid-sentence, hesitating.

Sam stared at him, patiently. He averted his gaze to pack some stuff into his backpack in an attempt to make it easier for Dean to answer. As planned, he could hear Dean take a deep breath.

"He wants us to get back on track. Save the world and such. The usual."

"And? What did you say?"

"Who are you? Horatio Caine? I'm not a suspect here."

"I know that," Sam quickly defended. "I just wanna know what's going on."

"Sorry," Dean sighed. "He's not very happy about us hanging around and saving water mermaids."

"We're not..."

"I know. I _know_, okay? That's what I told him."

"Okay, good." Sam nodded and smiled.

"Sam, there's something else he told me." Dean took another deep breath and slowly let it out. He flexed his head to the side as if pushing away an annoying fly near his ear. "He said we might have to kill Dad in order to prevent the Apocalypse."

For a few seconds Sam thought he'd heard him wrong but the look in Dean's eyes-troubled and shimmering with fearful anticipation-told him everything.

"You're saying we have to kill Dad?"

"We might have to, yes. But I won't let it come to that. I know, we have the Apocalypse to avert but it won't be at the price of our father's life. We just-"

"Okay," Sam interrupted, strangely calm. He knew he should feel disgusted, horrified even. But there was nothing. "Okay," he repeated, voice even, almost emotionless. It was the incomprehension in his brother's face that hurt more than the prospect of having to kill his father. For Sam, his father was long gone. One way or another.

"Sam? Did you hear that? We might have to freaking _kill_ him."

"I got it the first time," Sam said. "Let's go, before those hunters do something stupid." He put his backpack on, adjusting the strap against his shoulder and headed out the door, leaving Dean behind in a stunned silence.

-o-

The drive towards the lake was spent in uncomfortable silence. Dean didn't even opt for some music to break it.

Glancing at Sam sitting in the passenger seat, Dean was amazed at how determined and confident Sam was. It seemed like saving the water sprites had become Sam's entire world and the news that he might need to kill their dad didn't faze him in the slightest. On the contrary. It was a long time since Dean had seen his brother that composed. Almost... serene.

"Sam," Dean swallowed. "Do you think that..."

"That Dad's involved in this?" Sam finished the sentence, looking at Dean, who nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, it just seems so random that it could be a trick," Dean said.

"No, I don't. If it were him, we'd know by now."

"Are you sure? It's not like Dad likes to come forth with such important details," Dean retorted heatedly.

"Look, Dean..." Sam leaned sideways in his seat, waiting for Dean to look at him. "I think Bob just got to you."

"Hell, of course he _got to me_. He told me we'd have to kill Dad. Sorry if that little fact makes me a little bit nervous."

Now it was Sam's turn to sigh and he let himself fall against the back rest. "We should worry about it after this case."

Dean shrugged, tired of the conversation all of a sudden. They were reaching the parking area at the moment anyway and Sam was out of the car almost before the wheels had stopped sending up tufts of grass and dirt into the air.

"Sam, wait!" Dean yelled but his brother was already running towards the point where they'd met the dead boy's father only yesterday. A group of men were standing on the very same spot, preparing a small boat for sailing. Even from the distance Dean could see ropes and explosives which they were putting into bags. Sam was screaming at them to stop and Dean felt tempted to follow. But following his instincts as well as his common sense he jogged towards the trunk first, grabbing a bag of weapons and other tools which he had prepared before they had left the motel.

In a quick jog Dean followed his brother who had almost reached the group of hunters, and as Dean came closer he recognized Weston, who was already knee deep in the water, pushing the boat away from the shore. The other two hunters looked familiar and Dean realized they belonged to the group of men who had shot at them on their very first day.

"We talked about this. I told you this is wrong. The water sprites didn't kill Craig." But Weston wasn't listening anymore while the two other were grinning maliciously, obviously very happy at the chance to have something blown up.

"Hey. It's a fine day for some sailing," one of them said, grinning from ear to ear while the second guy climbed into the boat. "And we're just having a little fun fishing."

"Sure you are," Dean replied, then added, "Christo!"

The remaining hunter in front of him flinched as if charged by electricity, then growled as the whites of his eyes suddenly filled with black. To Dean's surprise, he didn't do anything else. Just put up another shit-eating grin and with a few long strides walked into the water, heaving himself up into the boat, leaving Sam and Dean behind as they watched the boat float off.

"Great," Sam moaned.

Dean cursed under his breath. "Did you see...?"

"Yeah, I saw it," Sam replied. "Demon. At least one of them." And those bastards were using the poor man's grief for their entertainment.

"You can't stop us. They have to die for what they did to my boy..." The voice of the father was reaching them.

"Now what?" Dean hissed. "Exorcism is out of question, I suppose." Somehow he doubted walking on water to reach them was an option.

Sam was quiet as he stared at the twinkling surface of lake, contemplating.

"Sam?"

"We have water."

"You're a genius, Sam. Want to sprinkle them to death?"

"Why not?" It was Sam's turn to smile as he reached for the bag of weapons.

"What are you...?" Dean stopped as Sam found what he was looking for and held a rosary in the air.

"Let's make a little Holy Water." He grinned, obviously convinced this was the best idea of his life.

"Great. Then what?"

"Just do it?"

"Me? What about you?"

But the answer was already answered when Sam started to take off his shoes and jacket and wade into the shallow water.

"Sam! What're you..."

"Hurry, Dean, before they realize what we're doing." Without further ado Sam turned and sped up, water spraying around him and when he was deep enough he dove into the water.

"This plan sucks," Dean murmured, not even sure what the plan was besides turning the lake into a pool of Holy Water. And seriously, he wasn't even sure it was possible. Thousands and thousands of gallons of water and here he was with a rosary the size of a bootlace. Awesome! Nevertheless, he took one last look at the three men on the water, then out towards Sam, who was about to take a large gulp before diving underwater. The surface of the lake smoothed over when Sam didn't come back up and a knot formed in Dean's stomach, painful and familiar.

He needed to concentrate. Whatever Sam's plan was, he had his part to play if it was to work.

Leaning down, Dean let the one end of the rosary slip into the water, his fist curling around the other end and started to recite the words burned into his memory like his own name, "_Exorcizo te, creatura aquæ, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostri..._"

-o-

He really was getting used to this, Sam thought as he sank deeper and deeper. The pressure made his eardrums hurt and he resisted the urge to swim back up. Putting every ounce of will in it, he thought _Are you here?_ and was not disappointed when a few seconds later... the missing air making his mind woozy and strangely blank... something floated towards him. Something blurry and white.

_Samuel Winchester_

'Please. Listen to me!' Sam hoped this would work and his thoughts weren't too messed up for the creature to understand. He could feel a soft touch against his temple and the uncomfortable chilliness around him turned into a warm blanket while water rushed into his starving lungs, pulling much needed air out of it. 'You're in great danger. Demons...'

He was interrupted when he could hear the excited murmur of different voices in his head.

_We can feel them... feel them... feel them. Darkness_

'They've got explosives', Sam thought, trying to figure how to explain his plan. 'Fire. I need your help...'

_The water. What are you doing with the water?_ Something else wound its way into their collective murmur. Amazement, surprise and confusion. _Warmth, live, saint, saint, saint..._

'It's holy water. Listen... we don't have much time...'

-o-

He hadn't even finished the first paragraph when the bullets came whizzing by and Dean had no other choice than to jump out of the way. The two demons were standing upright, the small boat beneath them rocking unsteadily from one side to the other while Weston sat between them looking confused. Any kind of demon mumbo-jumbo was improbable due to their distance but that didn't mean bullet wounds wouldn't really hurt.

"Dammit!"

Dean had to interrupt the incantation and run in a crouched position a few meters back to find cover behind a tree. Shooting at the boat was out of question. Not with the human hunter on board.

A bullet hit the tree trunk and the bark splintered, the impact leaving behind a large crate like a wound. Peeping around, Dean tried to get a look at the lake which was now covered by waves, spreading in concentric circles from the boat. The water was too far away, but to finish the incantation he'd have to get closer to the water which meant leaving the relative safety.

_Sammy_, he thought fearfully. His gigantic little brother was somewhere down there and here he was hiding behind a freaking birch. Without further thought he stepped from behind his protection and let himself fall down on the sandy ground, offering as little surface as possible for bullets to hit. He had barely touched the ground when the shooting started.

_"Deus, qui ad salutem humani generis maxima..._" he continued, trying to ignore the fact that the bullets were flying by him like angry mosquitoes. The words left his mouth fast enough to leave him breathless but that didn't matter. _"Non illic resideat spiritus pestilens, non aura corrumpens: discedant omnes insidiæ..."_

Waves were starting to reach him. First small ones but only seconds later the turmoil was strong enough to stir up the sand. The water turned beige from the mud and Dean looked up, half expecting to see a bullet hitting him right between the eyes. He stopped in surprise when he realized the boat was empty except for Weston who was hanging on to the sides as it rocked up and down on huge waves that looked bizarre on the small mountain lake. Two heads were bobbing next to it in the water. The demons.

And with great satisfaction, Dean picked up the words and finished the incantation with a grim smile. _"...ab omnibus sit impugnationibus defensa. Per Dominum, amen."_

He let go of the rosary and it sunk down. Just a few inches but deep enough that Dean could see it dig into the soft sand, the brown pearly beads gleaming like pebbles and not looking particularly out of place.

Inhuman screams were ripping through the forest, stirring up flocks of birds in the trees and Dean jumped back on his feet. The seemingly bodiless heads were spitting out demon smoke, which scattered around them like ash. Seconds later, the heads sank down and Weston was finally startled out of his stony silence. He stood up, leaned over the edge and jumped into the water, trying to reach the first of the hosts.

"So, _now_ you believe us, huh?" Dean grumbled and studied the lake, pinching his eyes against the reflected sunlight. If Sam was right then the water-sprites would take care of them. Make sure no one drowned again. At least not today. Especially not one pain-in-the-ass little brother who was still shining with absence.

"Saaam," Dean yelled, half in anger, half in fear. "Come on buddy. Enough baths for today. No more swimming for you without a water wings."

All he could hear was Weston's splashing as he struggled to heave his companions back to the shore. Nervously, Dean took a few steps, the cold water now almost reaching his hip. "Come on, that's not..."

He stopped and with a surprised yelp stumbled backwards when something held his legs in a strong but not painful grip. Looking down, he saw something swirl around him. Something white that probably was not an eel or a red-head with a sea-shell bra. He stood completely still, not daring to move as gentle fingers touched him, tickled him in the hollow of his knee and then detached itself again to float a few feet away from him. Dean could feel himself smile, gratitude that wasn't his own in his heart and, at the same time, saw Sam come closer, looking exhausted but otherwise fine, pulling one of the formerly possessed hunters with him. Next to him, Weston was gasping for breath, eyeing both Sam and Dean with something between confusion and thankful acknowledgment.

"Did I mention how much I hate water?" Dean hissed when Sam and Weston were close enough that he could help them carry the unconscious men to dry land.

"I hear you," Sam replied, shaking his head like a hairy dog and sending drops everywhere.

-o-

When evening dawned they'd already packed their bags, the car was fueled and the luggage was stuffed into the trunk. Both hunters had turned out alive, for better or worse, and neither Dean nor Sam had any intention of finding out how they would react when they woke up to find out one of them had-albeit in a possessed state-killed their friend's son. So, in order to avoid any more drama, Sam and Dean had taken off.

With a disgusted grimace Dean swiped an old rag over the leather seat, still wet from the constant abuse with dripping clothes.

"Sorry, baby," Dean cooed, hoping that there wouldn't be any water stains or-God forbid-rust. "Next stop, Texas. I promise," he mumbled.

"You missed a spot, there!"

Dean's head shot upwards and collided painfully with the roof of the Impala and he cursed. Loudly.

"Dammit, Bob! Don't do that."

"But..." the angel stood at the passenger door, his upper body leaning into the car and his finger pointing at a tiny spot where a small rivulet was hiding. "... I want your baby to be perfect," he stated mockingly, though not without humor in his voice.

"Oh shut up," Dean's eyes narrowed and he turned around, looking back to their motel room when he heard Sam come closer.

"So," the younger brother said, greeting the angel with an angry stare and a wrinkle of his nose. "Come to tell us something new? Like... we have to kill _each other_ now?" His tone was icy.

Instead of answering, Bob glared at Dean. "You told him?"

"Of course I did," Dean shot back, hoping it hadn't come out as over the top as it had sounded to him. He met Sam's eyes and added, " he's my brother."

As if it explained everything.

And maybe it did. Because after a mysterious smile, Bob shrugged his shoulders. "I like rebellions. Makes everything much more... unpredictable."

He waved, actually waved his hands like he was the freaking queen, and vanished.

"I don't like him," Sam muttered, walked around the car and let himself fall into his seat. With one last look to make sure no more baggage was lying around to be packed, Dean slid into the driver's seat himself, suppressing another curse when the small rivulet of water turned out to hide a rather large puddle, soaking the back of his pants. He bit his lips, put the car into gear and rolled out of the parking lot, looking forward to just driving.

They had to catch up with destiny. One way or another.


End file.
